


What Could Have Been

by Rei382



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23250829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rei382/pseuds/Rei382
Summary: Returning from a mission, Ed reports in to Mustang's office.
Relationships: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Comments: 7
Kudos: 124





	What Could Have Been

Ed winced when he knocked on the door, momentarily forgetting about his bruised hand, and anxiously waited to hear the deep voice that would invite him in. He knew he was in for a serious scolding. His latest mission was a complete fail. Well, not a _complete_ one; he did get the guy in and he was currently rotting in Central’s jail, awaiting trial which will get him to stay there for at least a few years. But he also couldn’t deny the destruction he left in his wake. It was a harsh fight, and in the midst of it, all he had in mind was getting this criminal who thought for some reason that he had rights to the lives and property of the people of that suburb of Central City right where he belonged, jail. So he got some streets in a mess and made a bridge collapse on him in the process. So what? Wasn’t the important thing that this asshole would no longer terrorize the inhabitants of Ruwon?

“Come in,” the call, slightly muffled by the thick wooden door, cut through Ed’s thoughts.

Well, he did right. Plus, he already caused worse damage and got away with it, typically with nothing worse than some scolding and a bite from his monthly wage. This time should be no different. Prepared to defend his work methods, Ed pushed the door open and walked into Mustang’s office high and proud. At least, as high as he could get, as he still didn’t cross the 170cm mark on the height scale, but he long ago decided he wasn’t going to let that bother him (as much).

“Here to report my latest mission, catching the loose alchemist who’d decided to make Ruwon his playground – what?” Ed started his well-prepared speech, watching as Mustang lifted his stare from the papers on his desk to look at him; he tried to keep going even when the normally poker-face expression changed and it seemed that Mustang was examining him more thoroughly. But when Mustang pushed himself away from his desk and got up Ed could no longer ignore it. He frowned as his eyes followed Mustang who walked towards him. Ed’s confusion deepened when Mustang stood right in front of him, close enough to make Ed feel tense and uncomfortable. He swallowed, trying to ignore the strange feeling inside him and the way his throat threatened to choke him with how dry it felt. He moved slightly, but did not dare to step away. “What?” he repeated his question, putting effort into stopping his voice from trembling.

Mustang didn’t reply, though. Instead he brought his hand to hold on Ed’s chin and tilted his head, looking thoroughly at Ed’s face. Ed fought the tightness in his chest and the slight feeling of nausea at the touch. He didn’t like people touching him or being in his personal space like this in general. But with Mustang it was different. Worse, in a way, as since a little bit over a year ago Ed had been experiencing some… changes. Being just over seventeen, he assumed it was long overdue, but he still would’ve preferred things to go differently. Or at least, that his hormones won’t choose _Mustang_ out of all people as their target.

Usually it wasn’t much of an issue. Ed disguise his feelings as anger, and it seemed to be working great. He was pretty sure that no one had any idea about the kind of thoughts that went through his head every time he saw Mustang; after all, he did consider himself rather good at hiding his feelings. The only time he allowed himself to give in to his needs was when he was alone, at the shower, with Alphonse being away, ideally, or at least busy reading something and not paying attention to how long it took Ed to shower.

But with Mustang standing so close, touching his face, and not giving him any real reason to pretend to be so mad at him it’d explain the blush on his face, Ed feared that he might slip and reveal how he felt. He was expecting getting scolded and did not prepare himself for such close proximity to Mustang. This… this required a whole different approach which he wasn’t sure he could summon up on such a short notice.

He held his stare, forcing himself to think about anything other than how close Mustang was standing and how he could smell his musky cologne and feel his warm breath over his skin. It got nearly impossible when he felt the touch of Mustang’s finger over his cheek. It made him want to lean into the touch, to give in and –

“Who did this to you?”

The question, asked in a low voice that was almost a whisper, yet was trembling with emotion, cut into Ed’s thoughts. He blinked once, then looked into Mustang’s stare, determined to keep his secret hidden.

“Colonel, what – ?”

“I asked you a simple question, Edward. These cuts all over your face. Your black eye. Who did this?”

Not that this was the first time that Mustang called Ed by his first name; but for some reason, there was something _different_ about this time. Maybe it was the evident anger in his voice which, for once, wasn’t directed at Ed; or the proximity of their bodies, or the touch of Mustang’s bare fingers on his skin. But it made Ed’s skin tingle. The fighting spirit he walked into the office with, ready to defend his capturing methods, left him and without even realizing it his energy changed. He wanted to give Mustang the real answer, wanted to see what would happen, wanted to see him storming out and beating that bastard to pulp. But he knew that despite everything, it was unlikely to happen. There was nothing going on between him and Mustang, and there was no reason for him to endanger his position like that, especially since the bastard was already in jail.

A different part of him wanted to play this game differently. To deny that he was even in a minor pain. To treat the cuts and bruises like it was nothing (which in a way was true. He’d gone through much worse pains in his life) and show his strength.

He watched Mustang’s dark, almost black eyes, staring at him and waiting for an answer. What was he thinking? Mustang was worried about him because he was his subordinate, and the cuts did look rather bad, Ed knew it. Mustang was thinking about the paperwork and compensation and hospital time this would require.

…Right?

“It’s nothing. It just looks bad,” Ed said eventually. His tongue darted out to lick his lips and the metallic taste of blood hit his taste buds. When did that wound open? Ed didn’t even feel the blood coming out of his lip until he tasted it.

“You’re wounded and bleeding.”

“Yeah…” Ed said evasively, still trying to fight the urge to lean into Mustang’s touch. “I’ve been through worse. Really, I’m okay.” But Mustang didn’t let go. His thumb moved again, this time wiping the fresh line of blood at the side of Ed’s lip. Ed’s mouth went dry, his heart beat hard in his chest. Did… did Mustang realize how this was making him feel? Was this some kind of a game to him? Or was he much less observant than Ed gave him credit for?

Ed swallowed again. When Mustang’s thumb reached his lip he couldn’t hold it back any longer, and a soft moan escaped his throat, his lips slightly parting and his eyes closing. He couldn’t even find it inside himself to panic from his reaction. “Why do you care so much?” he asked in a low voice, fully aware of how tense it sounded. But he had to know. Mustang was always looking at him a bit funny, but he figured it was because he was annoying; but the way he behaved just now suggested differently.

Mustang’s thumb lingered on Ed’s lip, slightly pulling on it. Ed now could taste both the iron-y flavor of his blood and the salty taste of Roy’s thumb. He sighed and opened his eyes, seeing that Mustang didn’t move his stare not even by a millimeter. “I heard the reports from the ground. I heard about the bridge that collapsed – with you under it. The thoughts that crossed my mind…”

Ed blinked. “Yeah, but – I’m here. I’m fine. The bridge just got me this wound – umph,” he moved to point at the cut on his arm, but the movement moved Mustang, too, pushing his thumb into his mouth. In all his fantasies, this wasn’t exactly how he imagined it. First, they’d have to be much less dressed; but it wouldn’t be an accident like it was now, and Mustang wouldn’t taste of blood, and it wouldn’t catch them both by such a surprise that Ed would replace the beginning of a stroke of his tongue with a bite and Mustang’s eyes wouldn’t go wider like they did now. “Shit – I – I’m sorry,” finally Ed found it within himself to step away and create some distance between them. His heart was now pounding so hard in his chest he was sure Mustang could hear it too. He couldn’t believe it. He fucking _bit_ Mustang’s finger. He felt the blood rush to his face, coloring whatever piece of skin that was not red yet in bright crimson.

Fuck.

“Please, don’t apologize,” Mustang said.

It didn’t help how embarrassed Ed felt. He wished he’d never reported in. As if standing so closely wasn’t bad enough. As if tasting Mustang’s skin wasn’t bad enough. The situation just started sinking in. There was no way Mustang wouldn’t know how he felt now. Well, it was a nice time period working under him. At least he got a taste of Mustang to feed his fantasies for a little while longer.

“Yeah… right… I’ll just see myself out now – “

“Stop,” Mustang reached over and held his shoulder. Ed couldn’t help the flinch when a surge of pain shot through him as Mustang managed to touch one of the bruised spots. The hand immediately left him. He felt Mustang’s stare on him, examining. “Take off your jacket.”

“What?” now it was Ed’s turn to stare at Mustang. “No!”

“You are clearly more injured than you tell me. I want to know just how bad your state is. I should probably send you directly to the infirmary.”

“No – I am _fine_ , really. I walked all the way here by myself. What is wrong with you? Why this sudden change?”

There was a short pause during which Mustang still seemed to seize Ed; as if he was expecting him to collapse and fall any moment. Ed held himself. He was still breathing heavily, his heart was still beating hard, his ears still pounding. The taste of Mustang’s thumb still lingered on his lips and the touch of his skin over his own still tingled. But he felt fine. He managed to pull through losing a limb when he was just eleven. Having a bridge collapsing on him was a children’s game to him.

Mustang sighed. “I really thought I lost you today,” he said eventually. “The report I got said that we have the culprit in custody, but that after the bridge collapsed, there was no sighting of you. I… I didn’t know…”

Ed watched, horrified, as Mustang brought his hands up to his face, covering his eyes. He didn’t understand why Mustang was reacting so strongly. He was here. He was fine. And besides, he was just Mustang’s subordinate. Sure, he knew that Mustang cared for his subordinates and would endanger his own life to save theirs. But Ed never saw him collapsing like that because of a fight.

He blinked, and then walked over, ignoring the pain the movement caused him. “Hey – Mustang, I’m fine. Really.” He hesitated for a moment, but then reached over to place his hand on Mustang’s arm. “The bastard I was chasing is in jail. A bridge collapsed but I’m fine. Been through worse, remember?” he lifted his right arm, exposing the automail. “There’s nothing to worry about. Okay?”

He watched as Mustang slowly removed his hand from his eyes, slowly lifted his face to look at Ed. He looked almost as shook as Ed felt that first moment, when Mustang walked towards him and touched his face. It took another short moment for him to seemingly gain control again; his features hardened and he straightened his posture, looking down on Ed from the extra five centimeters or so that still differentiated their heights.

“I know,” he said. He was talking in his regular voice again, although there was still a slight shakiness to it, a vestige of his worry just a minute ago. “But as your commanding officer, I am allowed to be worried. It is my duty.”

Ed blinked. The words made sense, but they did not match with the moment they just shared. Ed had never seen Mustang acting the way he just did. So protective, so… intimate. And the way it ended so abruptly made it even stranger. He opened his mouth to say it out loud. Two years ago he probably would’ve. But he looked at Mustang and saw the mask of professionalism on his face, distancing them miles from each other despite them still being physically so close Ed only had to take a step to take what he wanted, what he fantasized about for over a year now. What for a short moment, he thought Mustang might want, too.

Instead he closed his mouth and took a step back. For a split second he saw a flash over Mustang’s face and thought he might stop him, but he remained in his place.

“Right,” Ed said eventually. “So… uh, My report, then. As you know, I captured the culprit. It was an unregistered alchemist, and his goal was, basically, to get rich over the poor people’s hard work. He posed a challenge when I attempted to capture him and – “

“I think you should probably go to the infirmary first,” Mustang said, cutting into his words. “Hand in your written report tomorrow morning. You’re dismissed, Fullmetal.”

Ed stopped. He felt weird; like there was a moment for him to grasp, and he missed it. It felt like Mustang was now trying to push him away.

It was probably just him overactive imagination, Ed figured. He was probably just adding meaning to touches that meant nothing more than worry. He wasn’t distancing himself now, but just being his usual commanding-officer self. He nodded. “Yes, Colonel,” he said, and turned on his heels to head out. Distancing himself now was probably a good idea. Not to mention that he wasn’t exactly eager to get scolded for all the damages he caused. He’d go get his wounds treated, and then head back to the room he shared with Al to put his report in writing, and forget about what happened with Mustang.

Ed let out a sigh and turned the corridor. He had a feeling that as much as he sucks at writing reports, it’d be easier to write a hundred of them than to forget about the moment he’d just shared with Mustang.


End file.
